


Bucky Versus the Fangirls

by Moit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: Bucky hates you.And me.Mostly, he hates the twenty-first century.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Bucky Versus the Fangirls

It will never be enough.

When you’re famous—and I use this term loosely, for I am among the most unwilling of celebrities—you will never give enough to the people who desperately want to devour you.

That’s what they want.

It’s not enough to know your birthday and your grandmother’s name and what your favorite subject was in school. They want to know what you ate for breakfast, how you feel about the latest Supreme Court ruling, and when your next Instagram video will be posted. (Never.)

I fucking hate the twenty-first century.

Every time I take a shit the Internet is clamoring for a picture. And I don’t mean that metaphorically.

Ever since Steve pushed me into that fucking river, I’ve wished I would have died when I fell out of the train. Death would have been better than this.

*

“Are you fucking deaf? I’m not going. You can’t pay me to be part of this dog and pony show.”

“It’s for charity. Bucky, if not for them, do it for me.”

“No.”

The word was said so emphatically that Bucky didn’t even need to change his tone. And yet.

Two hours later, he found himself kitted up and sitting between Captain America and Iron Man on a stage answering questions that were so mundanely stupid Bucky wanted to rip off the arms of each questioner so he would have something to beat them to death with.

“Winter Soldier! What’s your favorite thing about living in the 21st century?”

“Nothing,” Bucky growled into the microphone, earning himself a titter of laughter from the sycophants.

The stupid black paint they’d smeared around his eyes—since he’d refused to wear the domino mask—made his skin itch, adding to his elevated annoyance.

“And my name is Bucky.” He _hated_ being called Winter Soldier. He hadn’t asked to become a neo-Nazi weapon, and the horrid nickname reminded him of how much had been stolen from him.

The next questioner at least had the decency to use his name. That was where the decency ended.

“Bucky, I think I speak for all of us when I say: Would you do us a favor and kiss Captain America?” The audience punctuated the question with cheers.

Bucky leaving the stage preemptively with both middle fingers raised was broadcast across national news that night.

It wasn’t until he agreed to appear on 20/20 that he would clear the air about exactly what happened that day and why. It was only because he’d been hounded (even more than usual) since his stormy exit during the panel discussion.

For the interview he was given the latitude to dress how he wanted. No one attacked his face with charcoal.

He was presented to the audience as James “Bucky” Barnes, WWII POW and decorated hero. He would even go so far as to say he felt relaxed in his own boots with his long hair tied back into a ponytail.

The set was more minimalist than many: a comfortable chair for each of them, and with the exception of the bright studio lights and the men behind the cameras, Bucky could almost pretend this was just a conversation.

Barbara—as she’d introduced herself—began with an easy question. “Do you prefer James or should I call you Bucky?”

“Bucky’s fine,” he said, forcing a half-smile.

She warmed him up by asking questions about his childhood: What was it like to grow up in 1920s Brooklyn with a single mom? How much had the country changed since then? What was it like using a cellphone for the first time?

She studiously avoided any mention of Steve, instead focusing on Bucky’s own experience of war, right up until his capture by the Germans.

“During the times you were lucid, can you describe what you were feeling?”

Bucky shifted in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “They were trying to get information out of me—where my regiment was stationed, what my orders were, that sort of thing—and we’d been trained on what to do if we were captured, so I just kept repeating my name, rank, service number, and date of birth. I don’t remember, but I’ve been told that by the time I was rescued,” again, he avoided mentioning Steve’s name, “I was only saying my service number.”

“I’m sure you memorized that early in your career.”

“32557038. I know it better than my own name.”

One of the producers signaled them, and Barbara segued smoothly into a break.

“Are you doing okay?”

Bucky nodded and rolled his shoulders a few times. “Yeah.” He stood up and walked over to where Steve sat in a director’s chair. Steve handed Bucky a bottle of water. “So far so good, yeah?”

“You’re doing a great job.”

“I hate that I have to do this at all. Then again, I also hate that I’m alive.”

“I should have left you to the Germans, then, huh?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You should have stayed the fuck home like I told you to, brat!”

A producer appeared next to them. “Mr. Barnes, we’re ready for you.”

Bucky downed the rest of the water, pegged Steve with the bottle, and returned to his chair on set.

The second half of the interview was more intense, but Bucky soldiered on.

“What kept you going, Bucky? In those dark moments when you were awake and conscious before they wiped your memory again?”

“Steeling myself by thinking about my family back home and my dedication to the United States Army was really the only thing keeping me going. I had no idea that 70 years had passed and my mother was gone. It wasn’t until I fell into the Potomac that things finally started to click into place about who I was and where I was from.”

“After you came back, you spent a lot of time in Wakanda. Tell me about that.”

A real smile crossed Bucky’s face. “Wakanda was…” He blew out a breath. “Amazing. The people there are so kind and generous, especially to an outsider like me. They’re a somewhat insular nation—for security reasons—but I don’t think I’ve ever been as content as I was when I was there.”

“And yet you came back.” Barbara phrased the statement so that Bucky knew she meant it as a question.

“I had to. My country needed me,” he said in a sarcastic, self-deprecating tone.

“Well, the war is over, Bucky. Why don’t you go back to Wakanda? Why bother attending these panel discussions that you clearly aren’t interested in? Masquerading as the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky flinched at the vile nickname. “Because Steve wants me to.” He lifted a hand like he had no say in the matter. It was the first time Steve’s name had been uttered during this interview, and Bucky wanted it to pack a punch.

Barbara pursed her lips. Bucky could feel her eyes on the vibranium arm clearly visible beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“But what do you want, Bucky? You’ve spent your whole life doing what other people have told you to do.”

“Honestly? I just want to live my f—live my life, but my boyfriend has a hero complex.”

“Your boyfriend?” Barbara pretended to be surprised, but she already knew this was coming. “A lot of people theorized that growing up in the first half of the twentieth century might have meant that you had certain internalized ideas about homosexuality.”

Bucky ducked his head to hide the smirk on his face. “No, I fall into the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ category, but in the ‘30s, it was more like ‘don’t tell and you can keep breathing.’”

“That must have been difficult.”

“Tell me about it. All the other guys are sharing pictures of their girls, and I couldn’t have one of my partner lest I was found out.”

“Would you have been discharged?”

“After they tried to beat me to death, yeah. Though looking back on it, I kind of wonder if that wouldn’t have been a better fate.” He rubbed a hand over his metal arm absently.

Barbara let that thread go and picked up a new one. “While you were in Wakanda after the Sakovian Accords, you got a new arm.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a laugh. “It’s hell trying to do anything with just one. Can’t even tie my hair back.”

“Would you mind giving us a look?”

Bucky shrugged. He knew this was going to set everyone off again, but at least this time it was on his own terms. He crossed his arms over his chest and pulled off his t-shirt so Barbara had a clear view of the whole arm from where it was fused into his musculature at the shoulder.

“This is an impressive piece of work,” said Barbara, not bothering to hide her appreciation of the craftsmanship.

“Shuri of Wakanda designed it. She did a great job, didn’t she?”

“It’s incredible!”

“You can touch it if you want.”

Although she blushed through her stage makeup, Barbara closed the distance between them and trailed her fingertips over the fusion point where his skin met metal. She rubbed the spot where his shoulder used to be. “It’s warm!”

“Right there it is.” With his right hand, Bucky guided Barbara’s down the length of the metal. “It gets colder the farther away from my body that it gets.”

“And it’s fused to your muscles?”

Bucky nodded. “It’s part of my body.”

“Now, this is a morbid question, but let’s say this arm got ripped off like the last one. Would it feel like losing your flesh arm?”

“Yes and no. This is a _hell_ of a lot stronger, so you’d basically have to rip the entire thing out of my body, in which case I’d likely die. But to answer your question, no, I don’t have feeling in this arm like the flesh one. That would kind of hamper my ability to punch through concrete walls.”

Barbara reclaimed her seat while Bucky put his shirt back on.

“So Bucky, can we talk about the last time you were on television?”

“Do we have to?”

Even as she chuckled, Barbara shook her head. “Not at all. But I was under the impression that you wanted to.”

“I do.” Bucky shifted his weight.

“Why don’t you explain the context of that event?”

“It was supposed to be sort of a meet and greet with the Avengers with all the proceeds going to charity.”

“But you’re not an Avenger.”

“I’m not even an Avenger!” Bucky exclaimed in agreement. “So I was more or less talked into— _guilted_ into attending. And they didn’t want me. They wanted the Winter Soldier. And he doesn’t exist.”

“It was pretty clear that you didn’t agree with some of the audience’s questions.”

“Barbara, I am a very private person. I wouldn’t want to kiss my mother on television, let alone Captain America.”

“So, it was an invasion of your privacy, not an aversion to homosexuality, that prompted your abrupt exit.”

Bucky licked his lips. This was it. They’d danced around it, but it was now time to drop the bomb. “Of course not. I’m bisexual.” He could practically hear the squeals coming from TMZ.

“And all these years you’ve had to hide that?”

“Like I said, I’m a private person to begin with, but it just pisses me off that someone just so flagrantly asked me to kiss my boyfriend so they could get off on it. It’s insulting.” It was really out now. And just like they’d discussed, Barbara acknowledged his response and changed the subject.

The headlines were exactly what he expected: Bucky Barnes admits gay romance with Captain America for 70+ years! Bucky Barnes comes out! Gay Captain America loves BFF!

“At least they got my name right,” Bucky groused over breakfast that morning.

“Yeah, I don’t think Tony’s going to be too keen on inviting you to the next appearance.”

“Robocop!” Tony shouted as he bowled through the door. “Get your rainbow flag ready! I’ve just booked us a spot on RuPaul’s Drag Race!”

Bucky leveled a look at Steve.

“Fuck this century.”


End file.
